And truly, I reiterate, . . nothing’s small! No lily-muffled hum of a summer-bee, But finds some coupling with the spinning stars; No pebble at your foot, but proves a sphere; No chaffinch, but implies the cherubim: And,–glancing on my own thin, veined wrist,– In such a little tremour of the blood The whole strong […]
There is no excerpt because this is a protected post.